Christopher Enslaved

Part One

By Randall Austin

This story is erotic fiction meant for mature readers and should only be read by adults over the age of eighteen years old. Please do not use my stories without my permission and please forward all comments to randallaustin2011@hotmail.com

Randall Austin’s Archive Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Randall_Austin_Stories

The most horrible day I ever lived through was the day

my lifelong friend Christopher Worthington was

enslaved for life at the age of 22, just 4 months

before he and I were to graduate together from SDSU

with our bachelors in chemistry.

On the evening of April 3, 2010, my dad told me to

cancel my plans for the next day because he and I had

something very important to do.  When I asked him what

was up he said he could not tell me, and that I would

simply have to wait until tomorrow in order to find

out.

The next morning over breakfast dad told me what was

up.  I reacted with stunned disbelief to what he told

me.  And because of what I was to eventually witness

on that day, a strange trance like numbness stayed

with me for several months, and even now on thinking

of the events I revert into a haze, unable to believe

that it really happened.

Christopher Worthington and I were friends since the

age of 6, when we became neighbors.  Our parents

supported our friendship, though they themselves never

became especially close with each other.  Mr.

Worthington was a successful businessman who stayed

pretty much to himself, but he cared very much about

appearances.  Not only about how he and his family

appeared in men's eyes, but how he appeared

financially in the eyes of others as well.

Indeed, Christopher was always neatly dressed, even at

casual sporting events.  His hair was always neatly

combed, and his manners were impeccable.  He and I

grew up together and shared everything.  We even

decided, after much uncertainty, to drop our first

choices for colleges, so we could attend San

Diego State University together.  And we had a great

time in college.  They were our happiest times

together yet, even after the many years of

good times we had shared.  We were best friends for

life.  Or so we thought.

Dad told me that Mr. Worthington had contacted him

only three days ago with news of his plan, and he was

to keep it under wraps.  He told my dad that he was

letting him in on his plans because he knew that

Christopher and I were lifelong friends, and he

wanted me to be present when he announced his decision

to Christopher so that I could offer him some support

throughout the day, and help him get through the

ordeal.

Mr. Worthington had fallen on hard times.  He was in

danger of losing the family business.  Under

California law children over the age of 18 who have

not served in the armed forces or State National Guard

before the age of 26 are subject to what are known as

"lex talionis" restrictions, which means that they

still do not have full rights as adults, though they

are no longer considered minors.

Thus, parents still have the legal authority to

enslave for profit a free born child if they can prove

both that they no longer have the means to care for

the child, and that the child fails to meet at least

three of the "lex talionis" requirements.  In

Christopher's case he had a bum misdemeanor rap on his

civil record for shoplifting, he had no record of

civic volunteer duty, and he had more than three

traffic violations.  Therefore Christopher, on his

father's order, was sold into slavery.

I was stunned.  Dad tried to reassure me, saying that

there was nothing we could do to prevent it, but that

I could help in some small way by being at

Christopher's side throughout the day he was to be

enslaved and processed.  If I would be at his house,

when his dad announced that his life, as he knew it,

was over; if I would accompany him to the slave

processing center and wait for him; and afterwards if

I would accompany him when he was delivered to Arthur

Baldwin, who bought him and at whose estate he was to

serve; if I would do these things for Christopher,

then I would be doing all that I possibly could do.

When I heard the name of Arthur Baldwin, the bleakness

that had possessed me suddenly turned to hopelessness.

Arthur Baldwin owned Baldwin/Fletcher Enterprises

and its chief concern was the Fletcher Farm and

Canneries.  Baldwin ran the cannery and farms

almost entirely on slave labor, and the overseers of the

slave teams were Baldwin's two sons, Arnold and

Retcher.  If Arthur Baldwin had a reputation as a

cold-hearted businessman, his sons had the reputation

throughout the valley as vicious sadists who delighted

in punishing and humiliating their slaves.  They were

young, probably only about six or seven years older

than Christopher and I, but they had reputations that

far surpassed their years.

I remember how Christopher and I used to share stories

we had heard about the Baldwin sons.  And just two

months ago we had seen them in town, each with a slave

on a leash dressed in clown outfits, wearing large

dunce caps and sandwich boards proclaiming; ‘I was

caught idling’ on the front side, and ‘Please spit on

me’ on the back.  Christopher called out to them, on

that occasion, saying that they were filthy slavers

who deserved to rot in hell.  I still remember Retcher

looking back and seeing us, and saying, "Oh, its

cute-ass Worthington.  Man, how I'd love to have that

pony pulling my cart!"

I cried, and told my dad it was injustice.  He tried

to comfort me.  And as he embraced me I thought of all

the times I had seen Mr. Worthington embrace

Christopher.

***

That morning dad and I ate breakfast in silence.

He told me that he and I had to be at the

Worthington’s by 11 am, since Christopher's

appointment with the slave processing center was at

12:30.  Mr. Worthington wanted things to go fast.

After he announced his intentions to his son, and he

got the final signature from Mr. Baldwin, Mr.

Worthington pretty much wanted Christopher whisked out

of his house for good.  The plan was that I then would

accompany Christopher, with police escort, to the

processing arena, and then afterwards accompany the

drudge (what slaves are called in California), along

with two requisition officers, to the Baldwin slave

compound.

Dad and I arrived at Mr. Worthington's house at

quarter to 11.  Mr. Baldwin was already there, holding

a folder stuffed thick with papers.  Also in attendance

were Trevor Humphries, Arnold and Retcher's chief overseer

assistant at the ranch, and two plainclothes

men from the police department.

California is one of the few states that do not have special

police units for the maintenance of slaves.  It is still a liberal

state, and the slave rights people maintain that

slaves are not a different sort of human being

requiring any special policing.  Because of the

liberal trend in general along the West Coast, private

family ownership of slaves is still relatively rare.

Slaves in the west are owned and maintained chiefly

by corporations and the prison system.

 I was introduced to Mr. Baldwin, and any fears that had

built up in me that he was a monster were immediately

dispelled by his seemingly genuine greeting,

accompanied by a broad smile and a firm hand shake. 

It was Mr. Worthington, surprisingly, who looked like

an evil person to me.  He was very rigid in demeanor,

with a distant gaze in his eyes, perhaps intensified

by his nervousness over the situation.  He thanked me

for being willing to be at Christopher's side

throughout the rest of the day.

Trevor Humphries seemed to be the kind of man one

would expect to bring calm and sobriety to any

situation.  In his mid thirties, dressed in a blue

blazer and tie, well groomed, he exuded a

wholesomeness that was rare in those who handled

slaves on a daily basis.

Also present was Christopher's brother, Dexter.

Dexter was three years older than Christopher, and the

two of them never got along.  Dexter was always

blaming Christopher when things went wrong, and got

him into a lot of trouble through the years.

Christopher got the rap when Dexter was apprehended

for shoplifting some CD's once.  Christopher always

felt Dexter disliked him because he was jealous. I

nodded to Dexter, and he smiled back.  He was the only

person present who did not seem somewhat apprehensive.

Indeed, he seemed to be in good spirits.

When I started to say to Mr. Worthington, "Isn't there

some -", my dad pulled me to his side and bent down

and whispered, "Todd, there is nothing we can do any

more to change the course of things.  What you can do

is just be with Christopher throughout this day."

This little interruption seemed to make everyone even

more nervous.  And Mr. Worthington, who had been

glancing at his watch throughout the introductions,

started glancing even more frequently.  Finally when

it was eleven o'clock, he looked at all of us and

said, "Well, it's time.  Are we ready?"  Nods from the

plainclothesmen and Mr. Baldwin. "Fine, I'll go and

get Christopher."

My dad and I were nervous, I felt like I could cry at

any moment.  Within minutes Mr. Worthington and

Christopher entered the room.  On seeing me,

Christopher smiled and said, "Hey Todd! Are you going

along with dad and me to Spence's for lunch?"  His dad

answered, "Christopher, we're not going to lunch at

Spence's.  Would you come over here please?"

Christopher was still unaware that anything was up and

smilingly went to stand beside his dad.  The two

plainclothesman got up and took places one on each

side of Christopher.  "Christopher, I have decided to

make some changes around here, in our lives.  As you

know, my business has failed and needs capital to

continue operations.  Mr. Baldwin here has very

graciously offered to help me out. I have therefore

accepted his payment for your lifetime services." 

"Dad?"

"Hear me out, son.  I, of course, could never allow

you to be enslaved and sold at auction. It was only

because of Mr. Baldwin's kind offer to keep you on his

property that I could see myself engaging in this

course of action. We both owe Mr. Baldwin a sincere

show of gratitude for what he has done to help us both

out."

"DAD!"  Christopher seemed to be having trouble

understanding the full scope of things. His mouth was

open and he was shaking his head.

During the preceding Trevor Humphries quietly took out

a digital camera and started to take a few shots of

the distressed Christopher.

Mr. Baldwin then spoke up.  "Well, gentlemen, I have

to be at a meeting in a little while.  I just need to

sign one final paper to complete the sale.  I know the

medical records are all in order.  And seeing

Christopher up close, I can see that my sons were

correct.   When I told them that Christopher might be

up for sale, and asked them for their opinions, they

both said it seemed like it would be a super

investment, and urged me to secure the goods in haste.

But because you have been keeping this under wraps,

Mr. Worthington; understandably so in these

conditions, of course, I did not have access to the

usual pre-purchase full body photographs.  Therefore,

as is usual, I would like a quick view of the

rest of Christopher, if you don't mind.  I just want

to see what I'm paying for, to make sure the goods are

in order and there are no surprises."

"Of course, Mr. Baldwin.  I insist on this myself."

Said Mr. Worthington.  "Christopher, remove your

clothing!"

Christopher didn't seem to hear, and Mr. Worthington

raised his voice.  "Christopher, I'm not telling you

again, remove your clothes."

Mr. Baldwin sounded reassuring, "Now, now, Mr.

Worthington, no need for any harshness.  It's

understandable that the newly drudged aren't aware of what

codes of conduct are required of them.  That's why the

thoroughly professional sort of training my boys will

be offering to Christopher is such a balm to our

slaves.  When drudges are given clear guidelines, they

know where we stand and where they stand.  But

anyway," continued Baldwin, giving a slight nod to

the plainclothesmen, "I am in something of a hurry

here, so if we could just move on."

With that nod one of the plainclothesmen grabbed

Christopher's right arm, pulled from his service belt

what looked like a piece of cylindrical metal tubing,

and placed it over his thumb.  He then started to

gradually turn the top portion of the cylinder.  He

watched Christopher's face as he turned the screw.

Suddenly Christopher screamed as if scalded with

boiling hot oil, "Take it off, please, take it off!"

The plainclothesman responded, "We'll take it off as

soon as you get every stitch of your clothing off."

With that Christopher tore into removing his clothing

with fury as he cried out in pain, practically kicking

his shoes off, tearing buttons off his shirt, a

Christmas present to him from my dad, in order to

remove it in haste, wildly flailing to get his t-shirt

off, pulling down his undies.  Then, when totally bare

before all of us, and crouching in a kneeling

position trying to cover his crotch with one hand he

stuck his thumb screwed hand into the air and screamed,

"Take it off!  Take it off!"  The officer was quick to

remove the thumbscrew, leaving a sobbing, crouching,

Christopher trembling in confusion, as he rubbed his

injured thumb with moans.  Through all of this

Humphries had been calmly clicking away with his

digital camera. 

The officers then pulled Christopher up by his

shoulders.  Dexter was wide eyed with excitement, his

mouth open, and a bulge showing in his crotch.

Christopher tried to cover his genitals but his arms

were swiftly and firmly pulled behind him by the

officers, leaving him totally bared for all of us to

see.

"Now boy, don't you worry!"  Assured Mr. Baldwin.

"It's always amusing to me how the newly drudged are

so full of modesty.  You'll get over that in no time.

We work the majority of slaves on field duty and in

many parts of the cannery totally nude except for

work boots.  You'll get over being around the clothed

non-slave employees in no time.  About one quarter of

our cannery work force are regular freemen

employees.  It's a very good arrangement.  They help us

keep tabs on the slave force." 

Christopher's head was bowed. Tears rolled down his

face, as Humphries advanced slightly, shooting the

exposed, distraught lad.

"And judging from the looks of you, you will make one

fine hard labor product.  Ah yes.  Very nice,

indeed!” approved Mr. Baldwin, as he walked up to

Christopher, to more closely examine his purchase.  He

ran his hand over Christopher's chest and tweaked his

nipples.  "A good solid piece of merchandise.  Good

shape.  And a nice waggler on you, too, boy.” He said

as he took Christopher's penis in hand and weighed it,

indicating it to Humphries. "Get a good shot of

this," he said. 

"But Christopher," he continued, "this thing I'm

holding isn't going to be of very much use to you anymore,

because one thing we do not allow at

Baldwin/Fletcher is any form of sexual release

whatsoever, and that includes masturbation."

Dexter let out with, "Wow, cool man!"  Everyone

ignored him.

As Humphries took a few close-ups of Christopher's

unit Mr. Worthington expressed his discomfort at the

delays.  "Gentleman, isn't there going to be plenty of

time afterwards to photograph your new purchase?"

"Actually, Mr. Worthington", responded Trevor, "there

isn't.  We need photos of Christopher before his

processing.  He is up for quite a few body

modifications today, and Arnold insists on a complete

preprocessing photo record of all the raw material on

his slave teams."

"I see," murmured Mr. Worthington. 

Mr. Baldwin continued.  "As I was saying, Christopher,

my boys deal very severely with those afflicted with

the habit of masturbation."  Mr. Baldwin finally let

go of Christopher's penis and walked back to where he

was standing, saying, "I just offer that to you as

fair warning.  My boys are very stern on that issue

because they say that drudges who do not engage in

such habits and pursuits are much more productive in a

labor intensive work environment.  They turn a higher

profit.  My boys are concerned about the labor

efficiency of the entire team, and an efficient, labor

intensive team, producing at top yield, creates an

environment that is pleasing to all involved."

Mr. Baldwin was a real slaver who saw slavery only

from the business angle, and over that angle he tended

to enthuse.  But on this particular day his enthusiasm

for business talk was to the distress of almost

everyone in the room, especially to poor Christopher.

Only Dexter was bobbing and shifting in wide-eyed,

openmouthed excitement.  Mr. Humphries looked

sideways at Dexter, and took a discreet snapshot of the

wide-eyed older brother.

"Now Christopher," Baldwin continued, "you should be

flattered to learn that you did not come cheap,

especially since, as you probably know, your father

sold you as a 'hard labor product.'  That means I paid

almost three times for you what I would have paid if

you had been offered as a 'standard labor' product."

Mr. Worthington turned red as sweat ran down his

forehead.

"Now that's good for you and bad for me.  It's good

for you because it means that you, as a ‘hard labor’

product, can be worked up to 14 hours a day, seven

days a week, whereas a 'standard labor' product can

only be worked up to 10 hours a day, six days a week.

It has been proven that hard labor drudges are far

more content than standard labor drudges.  Their minds

are much more occupied, and the suicide rate for hard

labor slaves is only about half that of standard term

slaves."

My dad interjected a feeble, "Now wait, one second,

Mr. Baldwin."

Mr. Baldwin thought only that dad was arguing with his

business sense and continued. "Let me continue.  Sound

business practice dictates that one only pays hard

labor product prices if the slaves are in their mid

teens, since hard labor can only be extracted until

the age of 42.  So that means I get exactly 20 years

hard labor return on my investment, compared to 28

years of hard labor if I had invested in Christopher

when he was 14 years old.  So I just want you to know,

Christopher, that I am purchasing you at something of

a loss as a favor to your father."

"Christopher, thank Mr. Baldwin.", urged Mr.

Worthington. Christopher was unable to answer,

only looking down at the floor as the officers held him

in place.

Dexter interjected, "Come on bro, just once in your

life try to show a little gratitude."   

The lack of response from Christopher didn't seem to bother Mr.

Baldwin, as he continued, "Now as a hard labor product

that means you will be on duty and in service 14 hours

a day.  But don't think that just because you're a

drudge now your life is going to be drudgery.  Oh no.

The boys see to it that 'HL's' what we call you hard

labor products, have an active and varied schedule.

They may have you cleaning cesspools one moment,

tooth brushing the walkways and driveways the next,

using you for target practice at another time, and

then the next moment they'll want you looking your

best, all freshly bathed, oiled, and heavily cologned

for some activity at the house.  So you will not be

bored, young fella, ever, in your service at

Baldwin/Fletcher farms!"

"Daddy, no!" Moaned Christopher.

Not registering in the slightest Christopher's distress,

Baldwin continued.  "Ok, now turn around, so I can see

your backside."  Christopher turned around, still

choking on tears of humiliation, devastation, and the

thumbscrew.  "Nice backside.  A backside always shows

clearly the work potential of the product.  And this

one has good basic structure, which means it can be

worked into becoming solid and successful draft

material.  We're kind of short of good sturdy draft

animals on the farm right now.  My boys will probably

issue up an order to have you placed into chiefly

draft service, which is labor at its most intensive.

If they do that, don't worry.  Draft teams get to

spend plenty of time outdoors in the sun.  It's an

absolutely invigorating environment for a young man!"

Dexter taunted, "You're going to get some muscle on

you, bro!", as Humphries snapped pictures of the backside.

To be continued…

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